A/N: I wasn't on anything when I wrote this. I come up with these things when sober, honestly.
Yersinia Pestis
"What the fuck, Sammy? What the fucking fuck?"
"Calm down, Dean."
"Calm down? Calm fucking down? I don't have any arms Sam, I don't even have any eyes. I have no fucking clue how I'm talking to you right now. How am I going to eat? I don't have a mouth!"
"I know, Dean! Just give me some time to think."
"Give you some time to think? What the hell are you going to think about?"
"We need to work out what happened."
"I already know what happened. You pissed the fucker off and now we're floating here. I don't even know if I'm floating; I can't feel anything!"
"I did not piss it off! You did!"
"Are you kidding me? Who was the one who shot it in the face?"
"Yeah, but you totally set it on fire."
"Whatever. You thought of anything yet?"
"It sent us to a different dimension?"
"...Sam, that's lame."
"It took our souls and now we're trapped between worlds."
"Have you been reading those books again?"
"What books? I read a lot, Dean."
"I don't know, but where else are you getting these shit ideas from?"
"Okay then, we're stuck in purgatory."
"You're saying we're dead now?"
"Yeah. Well, no. Okay, so, maybe it poisoned us so we can't feel anything or move. Except to talk."
"Can it do that?"
"Shouldn't be able to."
"So what can it do?"
"Did you even listen to what I was saying this morning?"
"Yeah, you said... that... oh come on, the TV was on!"
"Oh yeah, I forgot, Oprah's more important than knowing our enemy."
"Hey, I knew how to kill it. And that it makes people vanish."
"It doesn't make people vanish, Dean, it changes them."
"Changes them... how?"
"That's the problem, no one really knows. When people get changed back, they can't remember anything helpful. There are lots of theories-"
"Oh God, kill me now."
"Look, Dean, one of these theories might be helpful!"
"How? Even if we did know what happened, what are we gonna do? We're completely helpless here."
"What do you propose we do, then?"
"... I-spy?"
"Jesus Christ."
"Two hundred sixty-three bottles of beer on the wall, two hundred sixty-three bottles of beer."
"Dean, please."
"You take one down and pass it around and there's two hundred sixty-two bottles of beer on the wall."
"Seriously, Dean."
"Two hundred sixty-two bottles of beer on the wall, two hundred sixty-two bottles of beer."
"Sing something else, Dean, anything else."
"You take one down and pass it around and there's two hundred sixty-one bottles of beer on the wall."
"I swear, Dean."
"Two hundred sixty-one bottles of beer on the wall, two hundred sixty-one bottles of beer."
"You're actually doing my head in, now."
"You take one down and pass it around and there's two hundred sixty bottles of beer on the wall."
"You start the next verse, Dean, I'll-"
"You'll what? Come over here? I'd like to see that! Two hundred sixty bottles of beer on the wall, two hundred sixty bottles of beer."
"I'll fucking kill you. When we change back, I'll fucking kill you."
"You take one down and pass it around and there's two hundred fifty-nine bottles of beer on the wall."
"You're not going to get bored of this are you?"
"Two hundred fifty-nine bottles of beer on the wall, two hundr- hundre- hundred fifty- fuck!"
"Dean?"
"Jesus! Ow!"
"You okay?"
"No. Fuck! No! What is that?"
"Dean? Dean? What's going on? Dean!"
"..."
"Dean! Talk to me! Are you still there?"
"..."
"Dean!"
"Fucking ow!"
"Jesus Christ, Dean, don't do that to me!"
"That was painful as all get-out, what was it?"
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Are there... It sounds like there's... two of you?"
"Two of me? Sammy, don't be... hey, cool!"
"How many of you are there now?"
"Like we've been keeping count."
"Well, we're at least in the hundred thousands."
"That's nice but what's going to happen when we change back?"
"Hopefully, we'll revert back to the original two."
"Okay, so which are the original two?"
"Good question."
There was no big bang or dramatic burst of light, no warning that anything was going to happen. Just, one moment they were in their – now familiar – void of all senses and the next they were standing in a park in the middle of a town. God knew which town, but there they were, same clothes and everything, as if they hadn't disappeared off the face of the Earth (or changed or whatever) for the past however long. Last they knew, they were in some town in Texas, but this place didn't really feel like Texas.
They accosted a guy walking through the park to ask him the date. They decided to skip on asking him what town this was because that might have come across as slightly too weird.
"Oh, sure," he said through his face mask, like the ones surgeons wear, "August 25th." They couldn't see his mouth, but his eyes looked like they were smiling kindly. They deftly hid their looks of astonishment and thanked him before leaving to look for some clue as to where the hell they were.
"August 25th?" said Dean, "Sam, that's like two months!"
"I know, Dean!"
"Oh God, we left the car in that shit hole for two months!" Sam glanced sidelong at Dean before rolling his eyes.
"Yeah, but first we have to work out where that shit hole is in relation to us."
"Hey, that look like a motel sign to you?" Big, garish, covered in lights, only half of which probably work, yeah, that looked like a motel sign. They jogged up the road towards it, only to find that the sign's motel was shut.
Not put off by this small fact, they still went to bang on the office door. For a couple of minutes. Continuously. Yeah, Dean was the one behind that genius plan. Eventually someone walking by was kind enough to stop and explain to them that it was closed.
"It's closed," she said.
"Yeah, but we really need somewhere to stay," explained Dean. The woman suddenly turned very suspicious.
"Have you escaped quarantine?"
"Quarantine? No-"
"My brother and I," interrupted Sam, using his best sincere face, "We've been out of touch with the world for the past couple of months."
"Yeah, I'll say. All motels, hotels, hostels, everything has been shut by the government."
"Shut? Why?" The woman stared at them, looking lost for words.
"Have you seriously been living under a rock or something?"
"Maybe," was the best answer Dean could come up with. The woman sighed.
"To stop the spread of the disease," she looked at them, obviously expecting them to understand at least the meaning of 'the disease' but no such luck. "You know, the plague? The return of the Black Death? The end of all humankind if you believe the complete nutters? Ringing any bells?" Sam and Dean showed no sign of comprehension. "It started two months ago in Texas and kills, like, a quarter of everyone who gets it."
It suddenly dawned on Sam and Dean, in that moment, what exactly they'd been turned into for those two months.
"No fucking way," said Dean.
The End.
Hope you enjoyed!